Jane’s Favorite Story
Once, so very long ago,
A girl sent a letter to her beau.
He was far away at school
With teachers very mean and cruel.
The letter she wrote was very sweet,
Getting it, for him, was quite a treat,
But in it she asked for quite feat,
The bringing home of Christmas meat.
This may not seem like much to you,
You can eat till you turn blue,
But this young scholar was very poor
He had money for bread and almost no more,
But his girl had implanted a great desire,
To bring home a meal that would really inspire.
Perhaps his old mother would dance again,
If he had a bird bigger than a wren.
Through his last classes he thought and thought,
But when the time came it just couldn’t be bought.
He packed up his books and turned to leave,
But his teacher with eyes like holes in a seive
Looked at him and bluntly said,
“For Christmas will you have more than black bread?”
Our scholar looked up and shook his head.
“Take this, but make sure you get all your books read.”
The teacher stomped out, the student smiled,
This was the teacher so often reviled.
The student left by the five o’clock train,
On Christmas eve to return to his Jane.
His thoughts filled him with delight,
There’d be food for both families and candles for light
There’d be goose and gravy and fluffy white rolls,
If there was money left he would fix the roof holes.
‘Twas a lighthearted fellow that lept from train
Just as a broken old man with a cane
Hobbled up and said with a voice thin and torn,
“A penny to the pauper for Christmas Morn.”
A glint came into the scholar’s eye,
He said, “Come and join me for pudding and pie.”
The old man smiled and fell in step,
No one had seen him ever walk with such pep.
And when a young begar walked shivering by,
He said, “Come and join us for pudding and pie.”
The poor on the street and poor in the alley,
All the Bens and and every Sally.
The flower sellers and little pickpockets,
Joined them and all there eyes shone like rockets.
The scholar glowed and arrived at his home,
Kissed his mother from whom he hated to roam,
And said giving her the cash, “Darling, Mother, dear,
We’ll have a feast for Christmas never you fear.
My kind teacher gave me plenty of pounds,
And do you hear all those outside sounds?
They are guests for our Christmas dinner.”
“My son, I’m sorry, but your brother’s a sinner,
He’s deeply in debt, and if your willing,
We’ll need all this money, every schilling.
I’m sorry, I know you wanted a feast,
But this gambling debt is such a beast,
If George goes to prison I’ll just die.”
She ended her speech with a weary sigh.
The young man felt his ire rise,
Years of work and hope were robbed of their prize.
He had worked for all those years,
But George had his mother’s tears.
She had always loved the younger more,
Her affection had been partial galore.
She thought he must pay his debt.
Never! thought the student, but his cheeks were wet.
He left the house, banging the door,
The rabble crowd felt like a sore.
“Go away,” his broken voice yelled,
But their hopes were not easily felled.
“No food, mister?” a young boy cried.
“None at all,” the scholar lied.
Disappointment filled the street,
But his ringing ears heard receeding feet.
He sat down on the icy stoop,
He could smell bread and meat and soup.
But George came staggering down the lane
And now the student felt like Cain.
That board leaning up against the wall,
Pick it up and his brother would soon fall.
The student lept to his feet and ran,
Leaving the presence of that hated young man,
Through London streets late Christmas eve night,
Not feeling the cold or the winter wind’s bite.
He’d been fleeing for over an hour,
When a constable stopped him whose heartiness made him cower.
“Stop, young man, to night’s not the night,
Whatever you’re doing I’m sure it’s not right.
It’s Christmas I want to be with my family and wife,
But as she says ‘duty comes before pleasure in life’.
Trouble on the streets for Christmas won’t do.
Now you need to be with your family, too.
But if you haven’t a family you could join mine.
Our Christmas dinner is really quite fine.”
“Don’t mention dinner, or families either,
I want more of neither.”
“Now look here, son, your thinking isn’t straight.
How long has it been since you last ate?”
“This morning at school,” he said very softly.
“Here, have a sandwhich, I’ve also got coffee.”
The constable led him to some broad church steps,
And with food and kind words helped him see his missteps.
The scholar stood, told the constable, “Thank you.
You’ve given advice and I can never repay you.”
“Son, I don’t know quite what you’re going through,
But the advice was a gift, from me to you.”
Just as the dawn of Christmas day shone,
The way he should follow to him had been shown.
He dashed up that old narrow lane,
And ran in a house with the cry of “Jane.”
She smiled, but her eyes were swollen and red.
She ran to his arms, “I’m sorry,” she said.
“I hadn’t heard of the debt till last night,
When your Mother saw how you acted she had such a fright.
She told me all and I felt so bad,
We have food, but without you, I’m very sad.”
She looked at his face but it was far away,
He knelt before her and started to say,
“Jane I love you so very much,
And of course I’ve to take care of Mother and such,
But I think I can get George on his feet,
And school I’m about to complete,
What I’m trying to say is will you be my wife?
And share in my not so comfortable life?”
Jane’s glowing eyes dripped yes after yes,
And the family came in their union to bless.
And then came a note by a speedy post.
They were invited to enjoy a Christmas roast.
George’s creditor had a change heart.
And that’s Jane’s favorite story, from the start.
Did I mention I love this poem!!! =D =D =D
Maybe you're wondering who wrote it.... Or maybe you've got it all figured out.
Well, it was Laura.
Hope y'all have a fine day! :-D
Anna
